


Aunt Amy Has Her Say

by spikesgirl58



Series: The Adventures of Aunt Amy [6]
Category: Man from Uncle - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-07
Updated: 2013-08-07
Packaged: 2017-12-22 17:53:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/916257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spikesgirl58/pseuds/spikesgirl58
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Things are not the way Amy wants them and she decides to do something about it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Aunt Amy Has Her Say

In many cases, a young man’s attention turns to the pursuit of love in the spring, but for me, my thoughts always turn to the farm.

When I was just a young girl, years before Albert caught my eye, I swore I would never marry a farmer.  You see even then, I knew a farmer was married to the land and it was not something I wanted to play second fiddle to.  Then I met Albert and everything changed.

Julius, the eldest of three boys, was the farmer in the family.  Richard, the youngest, was a dabbler in real estate.  Albert was the middle child and he was the businessman in the family.  He managed Julius’s farm after he got into a bad way after some hard years.  He kept Richard from going under by not letting his brother touch any money.  Richard was sweet, but he couldn’t hold on to a penny to save his life.  Albert did that for him.

In later life, all three men prospered, but none like my Albert.  We were very well off, but we were never ones to flaunt it.  We lived in a modest home just up the road from Julius and his family.  Richard tried marriage three times and eventually decided that he was fonder of drink.  The next year he wrapped his car around a tree.  The incident, our first death, really brought us together as a family.  I grew to love working the soil, showing my young niece and nephew all the treasures nature held.  Josephine wasn’t very interested.  She wanted to play with her dolls and her friends, but Napoleon was different.  He thirsted for knowledge – all knowledge.  I knew he would go far.

“Aunt Amy?”  Napoleon’s voice was sweet in my ear. “Wake up, darling.  We’re here.”

I sat up, instantly embarrassed that I’d fallen asleep.  I touched my hair and Napoleon chuckled.  “A girl has to look her best,” I murmured, still trying to shake the last bit of sleep from my mind. 

It was late afternoon and the day around us was growing older.  The shadows were starting to stretch out and the hills were turning purple.

Illya slowed as we drove through the small town of Chelsea.  At this time of the day, it, too, was sleepy and quiet.  Farmers and their kids were home, getting ready for milking. Moms were in the kitchen making dinner.  Suddenly I felt like a voyeur as we drove past a farmhouse, a young girl plucking sheets off a line.

“Slow down, Illya,” Napoleon said from his spot in the back seat with me.  Illya glanced into the rearview mirror, caught Napoleon’s eyes, and nodded.  The road flattened and I smiled as memory upon memory came back to me.  “Stop here.”

The sedan rolled to a stop in front of a neat two story house, roses tangling their way through an arbor covered patio.

“All the lunches we had there,” Napoleon said, squeezing my hand.   “This is where Aunt Amy lived with my uncle Albert.”

“Your parents’ place is just up the road, isn’t it?”

“About a quarter mile.  During the summer, I would walk down here every day after chores.  We would go on the best walks.”  Napoleon came alive with his memories.  “Do you remember the time we went fishing in that brook using twigs, string and worms?”

“We caught enough for dinner that night.  I remember.”  Looking at the house, so unchanged and yet so foreign in so many ways, I wanted to laugh and cry at the same time.  We were going to raise a family here.  A dozen children with Albert’s laugh and my eyes… The Lord had a different plan, which later revealed itself in tuberculosis.  Today it can be more successfully treated, but then… thankfully, his death was mercifully swift. 

“Hey, you okay?”  Napoleon’s voice shook me from my musing.

“I suppose it’s my day to wander down Memory Lane.”

“Are you sure you want to stay with Mom and not here?”

A young woman suddenly appeared on the front porch and waved.  I waved back.

“And what would I tell the nice young family living here?”  I tutted with my hair again before climbing out of the car.  “I am going to have tea with her and then I’ll be along.”

“You’re going to walk?”

“Napoleon, it’s only a quarter mile.  Surely you don’t think that’s beyond me.”

The truth of the matter was that I was a bit relieved at the prospect to a little time on my own.  I love my nephew, but he can be a bit, well, over solicitous at times.

 

Puffing up the small hill, I began to question the intelligence of my decision.  I’d left my old home and picked my way along a cow path.  It was rocky and a bit unsteady, but I still had light and picked up a walking stick along the way.

I came to a ‘y’ in the path and paused.  To turn left would take me to the barnyard and a few dozen yards from the farm house.  Right and I would head down to the wooden bridge and the pasture.  It would mean a few more minutes to be alone with my thoughts.  I turned right. 

That was when I spotted a couple on a blanket on the grassy slope of the hill.  There was a bottle of what I assumed was wine, and glasses.  They were more interested in each other than the wine, though.  That’s when I realized it was my charming nephew having his wicked way with his partner.  They would be too besotted to notice me as I crept away.  I retraced my footsteps back to the bridge and stopped in its shadows to regain my composure.  It broke my heart that they had to hide their love from everyone.

“Amy!  There you are!” Katherine, my sister-in-law, came tromping up to me.  In her stretched-out sweater and too big boots, she looked as if she was playing dress up.  “Napoleon said you were walking.  Did you get lost?”

“No, just wool gathering.”  I purposefully kept my focus off the hill, giving my boys some well deserved private time.

“Will you look at those two?”  Katherine looked past my shoulder.  Without meaning to, I turned.  Napoleon and Illya were walking up the path, looking disheveled and rather pleased with themselves.  “What were you boys doing, wrestling?”

“Ma’am?” Napoleon cocked his head to one side as his mother plucked a bit of grass from his hair.  “Oh!” he exclaimed and then grinned.  “Yes, wrestling.  I was trying to show Illya how to wrangle a calf.”

“I bet you were.”  There was something in Katherine’s tone that said she didn’t believe him.  “Why don’t you two lend your father a hand?”

“Do you remember how to milk a cow, Illya?”

“Do you remember how to feed the pigs?”  Jostling each other, they headed for the barn and I looked back at Katherine, I suppose, with confusion in my eyes.

“A few years ago, after Julius had his heart attack, those two came up and ran the farm.  It was quite the learning experience for us all.”  She clapped her hands together.  “I’m about to feed the calves.  Would you like to come?”  She knew I couldn’t resist those sweet faces and big brown eyes.

                                                                                ****    

I’d gotten into bed with my book, but I couldn’t sleep.  It was still far too early for that.  I just needed some breathing space.  I looked up at the ceiling, watching the shadows dance across the walls as the wind blew through the trees outside.  The window was open and the evening song of crickets and frogs made for a pleasant change from traffic noise of New York.

There was a soft knock on the door.  “Yes?”

“Amy, may I come in?”  Napoleon’s question was soft and polite.

“Of course.”  I tucked the bed clothes about me just as the door opened.  For a moment, he looked so much like my Albert that I very nearly gasped.  He sat on the chair beside the bed.  “Amy, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong.”

“You’ve been acting odd since this afternoon.  Was seeing the old place that disturbing?”

“No.”

“Is it something I’ve said?”

He sounded so forlorn I nearly laughed and patted his hand.  “No, dear, it’s not you.  It’s the world.”

Then realization hit.  “You saw us?”  I nodded.  “And I thought we were being so careful.  Don’t tell anyone or else I’ll lose my good spy medal.”  He paused.  “You look so sad.”

“I’m just sorry that things are the way they are and that you two must conceal what others can freely display and seem so determined to squander.  Doesn’t that make you angry?”

“To what end?”  He took my hand in his.  “The reality is that neither of us have very long life expectancies.”

“Don’t say that!”

“It’s true.  We have a very dangerous job.  Don’t misunderstand me.  I want to have a long and full life just like anyone else.  However, there are several factors against that.  I’m just thankful for the time I do have to spend with the people I love.”  He stroked my cheek with a gentle finger.

“What about the ones who don’t love you?  There are leagues and leagues of those.  This path will expose you to so much hate and prejudice.”

“And it’s worth every bit for just a few stolen minutes with Illya.”  He leaned close to kiss me and I smiled at the mingled smell of his aftershave and toothpaste.  “Now if you will excuse me, I left a hot Russian idling and I don’t want his engine to cool off.”

He closed the door quietly after him and I went back to my shadows.  He was so different from the young boy who’d grown up and played in these rooms.  He was so committed to helping others, so poorly paid for his sacrifices.  It just didn’t seem right.  I wondered if it ever would be right and if I’d see the day.  Well, we would just have to see about that!

_Thirty Years Later_

There was a knock on the door of their small house.  Napoleon and Illya had long since retired from UNCLE and moved west.  Not so far west that Illya would have to suffer the heat, but far enough that the killing New England winter couldn’t have its way with old injuries.

Barefoot, Illya padded his way to the door and opened it, keeping a portion of his body behind the door as a shield.  Old habits die hard.  “May I help you?” 

“I have a registered letter for a Mr. Solo or Mr. Kuryakin.”

“I am Illya Kuryakin.”  Illya’s eyes never left the man’s hands.  He was prepared to slam the door and dive to one side if the need arose.  The way his left knee was aching, he hoped the need stayed away.

“Sign here, please.”  The man offered him a clipboard.  That accomplished, he passed over a manila envelope and left.

Illya turned the envelope over in his hands and studied the New York return address.  It seemed vaguely familiar to him.  It was obvious a law office, but what would a New York attorney want with them?  He carried the envelope through their cottage and to the back porch.

Napoleon was sitting with the morning paper, a cup of coffee and the crumbled remains of a breakfast pastry.  He wasn’t reading exactly as much as he was using it as camouflage and watching the world over the top of it.  Birds were dancing around the bird feeders and squirrels worked to puzzle out Illya’s latest invention to keep them at bay.  The paper’s headlines boldly and bravely announced the end to the ban on gay marriage in their state.

“Napoleon?”

“Yes?”

“Who do we know at Collins, Allison, Denbrady, and Cass?”

“No one anymore.  They were Aunt Amy’s solicitors.  Why?”

“They sent us something.”  Over the hedge, the nearby beach reached out and welcomed the waves as they crashed ashore.  The breeze brought a salty- smelling but welcomed breeze to counter balance the sun.

“What could it be?  We closed her estate years ago.  We were still field agents.”  Napoleon’s eyes grew misty as Illya settled into an Adirondack chair.  He passed the envelope to Napoleon and reached for his espresso.  “Guess there’s one way to find out.”

Carefully, Napoleon worked the flap open and removed the contents.  There were three letters, one addressed to him, one to Illya and one that had both their names on it.  He tossed Illya his letter and opened his.

_My dearest nephew:_

_I’m sure I am long gone by now but trust that you still have fond memories of me.  I had always hoped there would come the time when you would be able to become the man you were destined to be.  If you are reading this, then that day must be at hand.  Go, love Illya, and be free._

_I will always love and be with you, my brave nephew._

_Love,_

_Amy_

Napoleon brushed away a tear.  With anyone else he’d have faked bravado, but it wasn’t as if Illya hadn’t seen him cry before.  He glanced over at his partner of these many years and smiled.  Illya was looking a bit misty-eyed himself.

“Illya?”  The blue eyes blinked and then looked at him.

“It’s… ah…”  Illya cleared his throat as he handed over the letter.  It was basically a copy of Napoleon’s.  “It’s from your Aunt Amy.”

“So I deduced.”  Napoleon’s smile was gentle with affection.  “Are you okay?”

“How did she know I’d still be with you?”

“She was something else, but I’m afraid I don’t understand.  Be free?  Free for what?  It’s not as if there are any chains on us now.”

“I suspect the answer is in the third envelope.”  Napoleon tore it open and pulled out a check.  He whistled beneath his breath.  “Holy cow.”

Illya looked and he swallowed hard.  “I’ve never seen quite that many zeros before.”

“Look at the memo line.”

“Napoleon’s and Illya’s wedding gift.”  Napoleon smiled.  “The lawyers must have had orders to send us this when and if gay marriage became legal.  She was a forward thinker.”

“That she was.”  Illya’s head bowed in memory.  “We should put that in the bank.”

“We could pay off our mortgage and travel.”

“Money just burns a hole in your pocket, doesn’t it?”  It was an old joke between them. “I say save it and use the interest instead for something.”

“Like what?”

“How about a honeymoon?  It’s not like we ever had one.”

“At our age?”  Napoleon was grinning widely.  “Are you sure you are up to it?”

“At any age, I’m more than a match for you.”  He’d have said more, but Napoleon’s lips got in the way.  In the privacy of their home and their love, birds sang, the breezes blew, and Aunt Amy smiled down on them.


End file.
